It’s the eve of my 33rd birthday.
It’s been too long since I’ve visited this space or written anything new. Part of the reason is because infants can be exhausting (and children in general). Another part is I have been working on getting this book published for quite some time. In fact, it’s been exactly one year since I submitted the first draft of my manuscript to my publisher. There must be something about embarking upon another year that serves as an impetus to do something. And so I did.
There are so many reasons why I needed to write. But there are so few as to why I decided to publish. In fact, without the (not so gentle) prodding of a select few, I may never have had the courage to do it.
Courage is a funny thing. Having courage does not mean you are fearless. It means you are able to do the thing that frightens you. And so when I alerted the general public that the book is now published and available for purchase on Amazon.com, many friends began to ask, “So how do you feel? Aren’t you excited?” In truth, it is terrifying to publish anything, but perhaps a more appropriate response would be that I feel courageous. This all strikes a similar feeling to free-falling into motherhood…more frightening than exciting…needing courage.
I have needed courage throughout this entire process. To the many (almost all) of my friends who asked, “You’re writing a book? You never told me you were writing a book!” you are not alone. I never thought to tell people because a part of me believed it would never happen. Many times, in fact, I tried to sabotage my own project. And then, there is of course, the negative self doubt and self talk from which all artists suffer. I believe during a leadership coaching seminar I asked, “What if it’s complete shit?”
Oh well. This shit’s being sold on Amazon and is a #1 Bestseller in postpartum depression thanks to you all.
Happy birthday to me. Here’s to more courage at 33.
“Write Like a Motherf*cker.” – The Rumpus, Sugar